That's Just Insipid!

This was less spontaneous than poetry of late, and has existed in 3 prior and supposedly inferior drafts all written this morning. It still needs tuning, and I therefore need your comments. Its intentions and inspirations may be obvious, or maybe not. Lemme know.


Borrowing


If we live like non-deciduous trees
and all our wakefulness is like the joy
sent from the face of the sun to explode
the passive surfaces we hop from like
digital heroes in a video game,
then we’ve crafted a ward against that alarm,
that peal which chases ankles at the beach
and finds in us what makes us surrender.
Some glances tend to reveal their invitations
or hide them behind what seems like carbonization
in your eyes, so can we instead speak this language
Death practices at the beach with his mouth the sea?
Then, the invisible noises we’ve agreed to ignore
will be tools for translating the wonder between us.

much

Too many scary and smiley things have happened to summarize presently. The wheel in the sky that sends fate from up to down keeps on turning. I still have a good job, and I might have something even more precious. I'm also experimenting with constricting my alcohol practices. I went out last night to see a Billy Joel cover band that was pretty aurally accurate play in Port Jeff at a place Adrian Beerose would rather call The Jazz Hole and limited myself to 2 drinks, a standard that I managed to maintain with surprising little difficulty. When musicians are busting out "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" live, there is no doubt to it being a sack time.

Experiments in drinking less will continue...